Simple Contemplations
by Lizzy733
Summary: Remember this? Random collection of jhtm short musings? Well, I've added to it... I love insomnia...
1. Some stuff

An obsession, maybe... an affectation for things unworldly, like a happy existence or a remarkably beautiful setting where the sun is slowly consumed by an unseen force, ripping and tearing it away, leaving nothing but tendrils of flames to spiral into its ever ravenous maw. The simple insect is so listless in its ways. There must be something right in this design. How else could you account for the existence of such throughout history and as one of the most successful of life forms? Yes, something must be right there.  
  
Nny leans against the wall of his neglected abode. To his left, a limp body is partially suspended over a table by use of some crude hooks. The suspension hadn't been his death, but several perforations caused by a six inch blade had. This blade still rests in the hand of the room's only live occupant.  
  
"Disengage the simulators..." Johnny says to himself. Now is one of those times Nny finds he must get his feelings off his chest, even if it means talking to ears that don't hear. "Have you ever seen that movie the Matrix?" he asks, disregarding the fact that his audience is nothing more than a lifeless cadaver. "It's about the 'real' world. It tells that reality as we know it is all one big lie... like a dream, only good. I've been through so much strange shit here; I'm beginning to doubt the authenticity of this existence. Do you understand my meaning?" Johnny looks expectantly to the hapless victim.  
  
"I suppose not. I died and it only caused more confusion. There was something about being the virtual cesspool of the world and that I wasn't supposed to die and then I came back. You're not coming back to life. It must have meant you were supposed to die. Sometimes I wish the world would stop dying and get it over with already. I know what people are now. They're infectious little parasites feeding of this world's life force. It's no wonder we're all doomed. Our life begins and ends with a box, our fates foretold before we ever make our presence known on this rotating sphere of filth and dirt. Knowledge of these things does very little to comfort me. Do you understand?"  
  
The body is immovably bound by that thing that governs death(as well as meaty hooks!). The thing that could have at one time been described as a human soul is now long gone, leaving only its putrid, rotting shell behind, much the same way a locust might shed its skin. Drops of quickly cooling blood patter down from the deep penetrations into the chest and abdominal cavity. From the victim's back, that dark, viscous fluid traces its way downward. There will be no answer from such as this. Johnny feels his impeccable vernacular wasted on such an effort.  
  
With a sigh, Nny wraps his arms round himself and comes to a standing position. After ascending an eternal flight of stairs, Johnny finds himself in yet another of his private rooms. Bodies are everywhere: on walls, hanging from the ceiling, strapped to the floor... The possibilities are truly innumerable, but this room seems to hold one of every variation. Nny weaves his way through the room in an elaborate path that would have been akin to that of a fox when in pursuit.  
  
The fact that not a one of these bodies was animated to life didn't particularly bother him. In fact, the scent of their increasing decay has a somewhat sedating effect on the young murderer. The only downside to the dead state of these is that they can not comprehend the things he feels so essential to communicate. Usually, the well known diary is his conduit to expression, but with the pages full, how else can Johnny dispel his growing unease.  
  
After much more walking and climbing of stairs, Johnny makes his way to the topmost floor of his home. This, unfortunately, is Meat's floor of residence and if it is one thing Johnny would like to avoid, that would be Meat. The ceramic figurine was supposedly given to him by someone he committed intimate acts with and therefore stood for such things. Lust, perversion, anger, need, desire... all these are his enemy. Thankfully, no musings come from the inanimate burger boy and Johnny steps to the window to peer out at the sky.  
  
"It all seems so real; I wonder..." Johnny looks down to his hand, where that crimson stained utensil is still held. He holds it up to the light of the moon and glances at the color as it changes to black in the dim light. Nny smirks bemusedly as he brings the blade close to his other hand. With a sharp slicing, flesh is torn and blood gushes forth. Nny looks at the small cut now tracing across his left thumb and relishes in the pain the small wound afflicts his system. A toothy smile is the result of this reassurance.  
  
"I suppose this means that it is real after all..." he laughs softly, allowing the blade to fall to the floor. Johnny walks away from the window, knowing that pain is the one thing he always attributes to life.  
*enda* the short pointless thing I am enticed to write at this late hour, actually it's not late... not even one, but the fact that I haven't slept in over twenty four hours makes this seem late. I need sleep right now. I can feel that physical fatigue setting in. There's so much to do... so much time wasted on sleeping. I can blame insomnia for this... also Jhonen "BloodBootie" Vasquez, whose characters I am often inspired to write badly. I think I'll make an attempt to retain my sanity and do something... I've written, drawn, and painted today so I am creatively shot. Feel free to shoot me in the head with flames, as I am unusually cold natured... I leave you now while I still retain the ability to write... chao! 


	2. More stuff

It's late... 4:24... or something like that. I had another one of those odd urges to write. This one isn't quite as thought plagued as the last chapter, though it does have Nny talking to those that don't quite hear once again. There's this skeeter hawk that keeps flying into the computer screen. I think it's my friend or something. It's been doing this since 11. Maybe I should name it Before it's eaten by spiders.  
  
*ownlessness* I own less than ness. I have little money, just what I've stored back for that spooky shirt, whenever it comes in... so why would you want to sue me? You already have all my money, Jhonen. I do need something to eat on, even if it is ramen noodles (which are conveniently cheap and quick to make!). So please... realize I cannot claim Johnny as my own.  
  
Laying, thankfully, awake on a hard, cold surface is one way to preoccupy one's self, to divert attention away from common annoyances. Poured concrete isn't that pleasant of a substance, unless being walked on or used as a stationary object to bash heads into. As it is, the most recent to receive this special treatment is currently preoccupied with bleeding; not dying, just bleeding. The deep red fluid seeps from a lengthy gash in the unconscious fool's forehead. All that can be heard is heavy breathing as the wounded man's lungs heave roughly to take in precious oxygen.  
  
Nny leans his head over to look at that fallen foe. What had this one done again? The common act of slamming this guy's head into the smooth, cracked surface had seemingly taken a lot out of Nny. He felt himself the one whose skull had been fractured instead of the one exerting pressure needed to inflict the damage. Johnny leans up and swivels himself around to where he is facing his victim and cocks his head to the side inquisitively.  
  
"Oh yes," Nny states in a sudden moment of realization. "I remember now!" With a slight laugh, at his own forgetfulness, he continued. "You were the one reading that little article about me, and, in a rather vocal manner, agreed with it completely! I'm sorry, but that reporter was not only misinformed, but is actually three floors down in the "siphoning' room. See, the whole idea of someone like me actually drinking the blood of his victims is, well, very wrong. I'm doing that reporter a great favor! He misinformed the public, people like you... I'm doing this so he can know why the blood is missing. I'm sure he'll understand after he sees it happening... if he survives for that long. It's an odd occurrence if someone actually does survive for that long, hmm. But you're still alive aren't you?!" Nny finds himself in a standing position and pointing at the weak, bleeding form in front of him.  
  
"It would be a shame to kill you now, seeing as you won't be able to appreciate it," Nny ponders with a hand raised to his chin. "Oh well, I guess I'll see you later then... when you're more alert. Right now, Squeegee's at school and I have to go leave this dead rat I found in my kitchen the other day in his bedroom so he'll see it when he comes back." Johnny walks out of the room at a hastened pace. After passing the door, Nny pops his head back in and says a kindhearted "bye" to his quarry before slamming the iron bolt door shut.  
  
An overhead light bulb swings placidly on a string of electrical wire, failing to support the bulb with its essential electricity. The light dims and flickers a few times before radiating a final lasting burst of light and extinguishing, leaving the room to darkness.  
  
And thus ends something if I don't find myself in a writing mood anytime soon, which is highly unlikely. Read Eagerly Vent Intentionally Every Weekday... (there's a secret message) and God... I must really be tired to have written that... 


	3. Even more stuff

"What is time, after all, but an incessant thing. creeping into the very fundamental sections of your brain and harboring thoughts and memories that lie forever buried, awaiting the soil penetrating blow of a shovel, intent on unearthing mystery and seductive taunts. Please, do answer if you feel so inclined. Any input you have at this moment would not be taken lightly." Johnny tilt his head to the side upon his entwined hands and glanced straight forward at the trembling diva before him. "Nothing?" he paused, taking in every feature outlining her pale face; the tear that ran like paint from a tube, mingling with eye colorations in its descent, and ending its flow at the base of the chin, where it dripped purposefully to the floor.  
  
Everything about her was beautiful, especially her voice and Nny loved to hear it; to revel in its instrument-like quality. He felt he could escape on that... the voice of a siren. This, regrettably, was the reason for her being here. Nny had almost allowed himself to forget Devi... he didn't see her these days, in fact, a year had been lost to that ever-spinning spool that consumes life lines since his eyes had last lain on the sight of Devi D. Others had come... they never went, not like Devi D. Cherish was the latest. Cherish was what he wanted to do to her. Everything about her was right... special... that voice.  
  
She hadn't known Johnny, but he had known her. Since the first day he heard her innocently sing along with her walkman in the park, the infatuation had grown. This lasted for at least a month before he took some initiative towards the girl and presented himself to her the best way he knew how. The siren's song, however, is a deadly thing and it consumes all dispassionately, including Johnny C. The first line of ridicule had been one too many to be vectored by those delicate lips and that angelic voice. Now, he had her. She was before him and nothing anyone could do would change the simple understanding that she was to die shortly. Johnny sighed and eased himself into a standing position.  
  
"You hold such beauty..." he mused, looking away. "But you're fucked up, just like me... just like all! Is this world only capable of harboring the stereotypical, dispassionate, vain, and dead?"... "I really wish you'd speak" he said, holding her chin in his hand. "You're so beautiful when you speak... " He then turned away. "FUCK!" he snapped violently, forcing her head to the side. "So full of shit! You make me sick! You disgust me! You offer nothing but honey covered barbs which you force down my throat! You cruel demented BITCH! I hope you're prepared to take justification for your actions because death is upon you!" Nny, now armed with a tongue of steel placed against the girl's throat, beckoned her to speak, to use her sweet taunts. They sounded so rich that he almost couldn't bare them.  
  
She still didn't come a reply and Nny turned away, to the doorway as he re concealed his blade. Weak, he felt... Johnny fled that room. He'd never return. He didn't care that she'd die alone. It was times like this that he reflected on Devi D; the one he constantly tried but had never been able to erase from the walls of his stained mind completely. He pondered about her. as if infatuated. Why had he always been so infatuated? It made no sense... Devi was perfect. in every sense of the word and for some reason, her indentation seemed much deeper than it was.  
  
"Why," he pondered, "is that?"  
  
*as always, I don't own... found this floating around in my document folder.* 


End file.
